


Replacement

by skullfucker



Category: Five Nights at Freddy's
Genre: Fantasizing, Henry goes through postnut charity near the end, Implied Manipulation, Implied Relationships, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Male Solo, Masturbation, Mentioned WIlliam Afton, Minor William Afton | Dave Miller/Henry Emily, Past Relationship(s), Praise Kink, but its Henry just thinking about william praising him, i wrote this while listening to she wants revenge, its one of those fanfictions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-11
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-17 14:27:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29351955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skullfucker/pseuds/skullfucker
Summary: He was always there for him. Offering to lend a hand, being the shoulder he cried on and the friend that he always needed. So kind and considerate. Henry chose to ignore the terrible things that he had done. Because he was so nice — he was always there. William had to be a good person. A bad person wouldn't help him in his darkest days, right? A bad person wouldn't help Henry when Charlotte went missing. There would have to be a logical justification for what William had done, he would never do anything to consciously hurt someone. Right?
Relationships: William Afton | Dave Miller/Henry Emily
Kudos: 6





	Replacement

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this a month ago, sorry that its fast paced (:

Millions of thoughts penetrated through Henry's mind, ones that he tried so hard to keep away. He tried so desperately to forget about them, to force them away and think about his current situation at hand. But, no matter how much he tried, he could never push them away; the sinful thoughts that plagued his mind and reminded him how disturbing he truly is.

He couldn't help it. He couldn't help but miss him. He hated it. He hated missing William so much. His cold, calculating eyes, the grin that stretched across his face, far too narrow and devious to be innocent. The way that he would set his hand on top of Henry's and silently correct him on his inventions, an almost berating tone that loitered on the tip of his tongue. William always left him feeling incomplete, as if he was in the wrong and did something unsatisfactory. But, there was something about the Brit that always lured him in.

He always wondered if it was the way he spoke, his sultry voice that dipped down an octave when he was explaining a very explicit detail with finances, or their creations—Henry could never remember exactly, but he loved the tone. Or maybe it was when his fingers would gently dance around Henry's skin, gripping his wrists to guide him certain ways. Or maybe—

Henry missed William.

He missed him so, so much.

A sudden sigh escaped the brunette as he ran his fingers through his slightly greasy hair. He eyed his nightstand curiously; he had nothing to lose at this point, so why not try it? It's not like William would find out, anyway. He doesn't have to worry about anything.

Henry shrugged his shoulders and reached over to grab the lotion sitting on his nightstand, squirting the liquid into the palm of his hand. It was cold, and, somehow, gave him a sense of relief. He stared at the thick liquid in his hand and began to contemplate for what seemed like forever in his eyes, but he eventually landed on the option that he's sure that he will regret.

With his hand trailing down to his trousers, he wondered how William would react to this. Would he be disgusted? Would he replace Henry's hand and whisper sweet nothings in his ear? The very thought made his hips jolt in interest, his fingers fiddling with the button and zipper of his trousers, just as eager as he was to pull out his dick. He's been neglecting this type of self-care for a while now.

"Will," he whined incoherently as his fingers grasped his dick, trembling. It was even colder when he touched himself. He slowly began to thrust himself into his fist, closing his eyes to just imagine that it was William doing it to him. "Ff-fuu...uck... Wi—...wish you were here..." He tossed his head back a bit, feeling how he swallowed the knot that lodged itself in his throat. He sped up his pace, any coherent thought being replaced with the thought of William. Of him hovering over Henry, using him for his pleasure. Or even William gently fucking him, clenching his face in his hands and whispering soft words of praise, treating him as if he was the only thing that mattered in this twisted world.

He was always there for him. Offering to lend a hand, being the shoulder he cried on and the friend that he always needed. So kind and considerate. Henry chose to ignore the terrible things that he had done. Because he was so nice — he was always there. William _had_ to be a good person. A bad person wouldn't help him in his darkest days, right? A bad person wouldn't help Henry when Charlotte went missing. There would have to be a logical justification for what William had done, he would never do anything to consciously hurt someone. Right?

A sudden loud moan tore him from his thoughts and he slammed his hand over his mouth instinctively, eyebrows upturning as his hips thrust upward to meet his hand. If he imagined it hard enough, then he would surely think of William jerking him off rather than him. The thought, much to his dismay, was arousing.

But, William was an attractive man. It doesn't mean anything for Henry to do this; he's not in love with the British man or anything, he just looks up to him. Yeah, he looks up to him. Nothing more, nothing less. Anyone who believed otherwise was just peeking too deeply into _his_ business.

"Mfmffph..—!" He let out a choked cry, his toes curling in his shoes. His thumb pressing against the tip of his dick. Fuck, it felt so good. What he would give to have William touch him like this again. He's not going to last any longer if he keeps thinking of such heinous scenarios about William. The man has, word-for-word, gone missing, God! He shouldn't be doing this, should he?

A whine escaped him, "Wmhh... w—will...—" his legs spread open just a tad more, just to get more comfortable. He felt his balls tighten, and his eyes immediately snapped open, pupils dilating as he began to see stars clouding his vision. "F—ffuuck! W-willia— ahuhmmpph.." His hips bucked upwards with little to no resistance from himself, the pleasure sending jolts of elation up his spine and curling around his throat in the form of incoherent sentences.

Suddenly, Henry caught his tongue between his teeth as a means to silence himself from the noises that would escape him when he came. He felt his legs buckle even though he wasn't using them, and a pathetic whimper caught itself in his throat.

He was coming, and, fuck, _he didn't expect to so quickly._

Regardless of his efforts, "W-wil—William...!—" he moaned out to his former—business partner as if his silent pleas would bring him back to him, and finally, came. It shot out, not that he was glancing _obviously_ , and it was smearing in between his fingers, dripping. Sticky and translucent.

Henry wiped the fluid on his flannel; he would wash it in the morning. He fell back onto the bed that he sat on, covering his face with the hand that he had not contaminated. "I'm sorry," he mumbled to himself, "I'm sorry, Will. I know you would be disappointed in me." He shakily inhaled and exhaled, eyes burning with the indication of tears.

He tried so hard.

Henry tried so, so hard to make sure that William wouldn't leave him, too. He helped him create those inane animatronics with questionable limitations and abilities, he even tries to comfort him in what he would consider a dark time. Then, why? Why is William gone? A people pleaser—that's what he would have called him. Was it true? Henry wouldn't consider himself one... But, if it involved William, then, maybe he was.

He rolled over, chest sinking. His heart felt as if it was going to burst; chest cold and spine-tingling. "I wonder where you are now, Will. If you're even alive, that is..." His eyelids slowly sealed shut, persisting to stay closed as he reminisced of the past. The day he and Will opened the pizzeria, the first time that William intimately touched him. All the lies that he had been spoonfed meant nothing to him. All the times that William manipulated him to bent him to his will when Henry decided that what he saw wasn't right.

The tension and worry that plagued his mind began to dwindle, rejected and painful realities taking their place. William never was a good person, he never tried to be. All those times that he caressed him, where he held him close and let him cry, they were lies. They always were. Henry was always blinded by his sense of morality, a saviour complex that made him knowingly become manipulated by a man that he thought he could firmly trust.

And Henry fell into his hands like a malleable piece of clay. A doll waiting to be dressed and given a purpose. An animatronic shutdown. Prepared to be used as a spring lock suit, ready to do nothing but entertain others. William often said he was pliant. Why? When he knew all of this was wrong, why did he still stay by his side and help him? Why? What would William do in this situation?

Oh. Oh, how questionable...

Even when he knew that William was in the wrong, Henry still felt the need to see his side of the statement, to see his thoughts and feelings. Because he always had such a way with any type of utterances, constantly prepared to adequately communicate and describe a situation with ease. Swinging his arm around Henry's shoulder and gently nudging him to intervene in the conversation, then expressing how dissatisfied he was with how silent the latter was.

Henry's chest began to heave, his fingers absentmindedly clenching at his wrinkled flannel. _Always so hypercritical_ , he thought, _or was it I who was hypercritical the entire time_? With all the beguile words that William would spew to him, he didn't know anymore. Though, a small part of him already knew the truth, simply neglecting every thought and feeling that passed through his mind.

Henry hated William more than he wanted to express.

But, Henry loved William even more than he hated him. Even if he didn't want to confess it.

**Author's Note:**

> Let's be honest. I just wanted to write Henry wanking off.


End file.
